


A Spitting Image of a Splintered Heart

by maddog3706



Series: Truly Your Father's Son [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Scorbus, only light angst though, past implied Drarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddog3706/pseuds/maddog3706
Summary: Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy fall out of love the same way their fathers do. Which is to say, they don't.It's been a long time since Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy broke up and moved on, but of course, their sons had to go and fall in love. Draco has something to say about that, Harry is worried, James Sirius and Lily Luna are good siblings, and McGonagall has never been more ready for retirement.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Series: Truly Your Father's Son [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025242
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	A Spitting Image of a Splintered Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! This is my first fic and it hasn't been beta read so good luck lol  
> The ending is intentionally ambiguous (you'll see what I mean) but there will be a sequel should you choose to read that  
> Enjoy and have a nice day :)

_Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy fall in love the same way their fathers do._

Granted, enemies versus lifelong best friends are different starting places, but the journey is the same. It begins with rushing hormones, shared life-altering experiences, stolen glances, and guilty indulgences. It continues with covert glances when one thinks the other isn’t looking, desperate grabs for attention, and identity crises behind closed doors.

It even happens the same way, if you think about it. Two boys, one a spitting image of James Potter with green eyes, the other a carbon copy of Lucius Malfoy with short hair and a short tolerance for bigotry. They are sitting in the common room in their last year of school, surrounded by friends. A game of truth or dare. A bottle of watered-down veritaserum stolen from the Potions Master’s closet. A couple of bottles of firewhiskey.

A question asked by a curly-haired girl with prying eyes, who everyone thinks knows the answer already. A truth told that they both know will change their lives forever, in whatever way they might allow it. A long, blinking glance, and an impulsive crashing together of lips. The cheers of dozens of others. A victorious grin and a silent promise that what they have is not temporary.

Not another night was spent apart. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, who is so close to retirement she can almost taste it, practically has a heart palpitation in the east wing when she catches Albus and Scorpius in a broom closet. She could have sworn, for just a moment, that the Chosen One and his ex-Death Eater boyfriend are back at again, in the newly-repaired east wing.

She sees it in the way Albus is all over Scorpius. He’s always sending him notes in Transfiguration, casually playing with his hair at dinner, dragging him from shop to shop in Hogsmeade, or accosting him in broom closets and Prefect’s bathrooms. She sees it in the way Scorpius pretends to dislike all of this, but he gazes lovingly at him when he thinks no one is looking. She knows that this is all a pretense, part of the Malfoy pride. She knows because she has seen it before.

  
  


_Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy come out the same way their fathers do._

Albus, as his father did at his age, thinks he is made entirely of rebellion and angst. Naturally, he can’t do anything responsibly, and the Daily Prophet is having a field day. Minerva’s not even sure how he got that banner on the roof of the Divination Tower without help. James isn’t at Hogwarts anymore, so it can’t be him, and surely Rose Weasley wouldn’t…?

Never mind. Despite the number of house points she has to deduct for reckless endangerment, the whole thing reminds her so very much of the time Harry Potter stood on top of the Gryffindor table and professed his love for Draco Malfoy. Scorpius, standing mortified in the courtyard surrounded by a horde of Weasleys, wears an identical expression to the one Draco Malfoy wore whilst dropping his head into the dark mahogany of the Slytherin table so hard he bruises it. Ron Weasley is probably the only one able to find humor in either situation.

However, it’s not all fun and games. Scorpius’s first question once he’s able to move again is, “Do I have to tell my dad, too?” Albus and all his cousins start talking at once, explaining that he can do it when he’s ready and giving him tips. Scorpius still looks pale at the very thought of explaining his sexual orientation to his father, but Minerva is pretty sure Draco will get it. There must be something in the water they’re drinking at Malfoy Manor.

Scorpius comes home from spring break and he only has to nod at Albus before every Weasley currently in attendance at Hogwarts flings themselves on him with shouts of congratulations. Albus shoves them all away and hugs his boyfriend tightly, which he can finally do in public without having to worry about word getting to Draco about what his son is actually doing at Hogwarts. Then they run off, likely to accost each other in another bathroom, Minerva thinks. Perhaps they are done with closets now.

She sees it in the hushed conversations that grow more frantic as the year draws nearer. After all, as if NEWTs weren’t enough, they are planning a life together. They are looking for flats in the city, figuring out how Albus will go through Healer training while Scorpius starts his Curse-Breaker apprenticeship in the Department of Mysteries. Albus insists it needs enough lawn for his pet ferret, Mad-Eye; Scorpius wants it to be large enough to impress his newly widowed father.

Minerva remembers hearing an almost identical discussion twenty-six years ago. Lucius Malfoy is not easily impressed, and Hedwig has had enough of living in cages, second bedrooms, and cupboards under the stairs to last her a lifetime. Draco has, to nobody’s surprise, passed his potions NEWTs with flying colors and thinks being a Healer is a nice pipe dream. Harry tells him to have some courage for once, and the application is done by the next afternoon. Harry is joining the Aurors with Ron and Neville by his side, and Minerva thought all four of them hadn’t looked that happy in a long time. 

She smiles and sips her tea.

  
  


_Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy love the same way their fathers do._

It continues the same way. Eventually, Albus and Scorpius pick a flat in the suburbs and register their fireplace with the Floo network so they can get to and from the Ministry and St. Mungo’s without having to take those wretched tubes on wheels that Scorpius hates so much. Mad-Eye has enough room outside to dig holes in all the places he isn’t supposed to, and Draco only sniffs distastefully twice after entering the flat. Albus thinks it’s terribly funny to debase every single room with Scorpius immediately after Draco leaves, and Scorpius would complain if Albus wasn’t always so talented in his methods of distraction.

All in all, they count it as a win. They settle into an entirely ordinary routine, which probably would have concerned young Albus if he thought about it too hard. So, he doesn’t allow himself to think about it. He gets caught in the motions like a bottle at sea. 

Albus comes home every weekday reliably at 5:07, except Thursdays when he undoubtedly gets caught in a conversation with the receptionist at St. Mungo’s and comes home at 5:12. Scorpius greets him with a kiss and asks him what he feels like having for dinner. Albus says he doesn’t know and kisses Scorpius much more thoroughly, then launches into a detailed description of his training that day. Scorpius listens, cooking whatever looks mostly edible and judging how much alcohol they’re going to need with the meal.

After said alcohol or lack thereof, there’s likely shagging involved. Sometimes, though, it’s Muggle movies on the TV Scorpius never really figured out how to work, or a book that Albus has no interest in, but somehow Scorpius makes it sound riveting.

On weekends, they spend time with their small group of friends from Hogwarts and their multitude of cousins. Teddy does stop coming for a while after he marries Victoire, but James teases, pokes, prods, and calls him old for about six months entirely via owl until he comes back again. They laugh about whatever there is to laugh at that week over lunch and get drunk at pubs. Their friends tell Albus and Scorpius to get a room, only for Scorpius to explain that they do have one, and ask if they mean to suggest that he’s not paying his rent? Pretty soon, they’re all so drunk and high on life that no one really cares anymore what Albus and Scorpius do or don’t do outside of their legally owned rooms.

Albus thinks they rarely fight. He considers himself lucky, really. He and his boyfriend agree on most things, and when they can’t, they’re perfectly capable of talking about it like civil adults. Scorpius is always ready with a multitude of information, summoning books from the shelves lining their living room (Draco’s suggestion).

Albus entertains the idea that maybe Draco only suggested the bookshelves so that his son could win arguments against Albus all the time, but only briefly. Scorpius doesn’t need much help as it is. Albus is always ready to counter with logic and guilt-trips, but sometimes Scorpius gets this look in his eyes and Albus knows he will not feel guilty about winning, whatever the cost. Albus supposes they must have some qualities leftover from their Death Eater days, but he never tells this to Scorpius.

Albus isn’t sure what or who possesses him to buy the ring (strangely, the voice in his head sounds like his uncle Ron), but he sees it in the window of a shop in Diagon Alley one day. It reminds him of the ring Scorpius showed him once. It was the one his mother wore when she was alive, and the one Draco simply couldn’t bear to leave in a grave in the Malfoy family plot. Albus knows he will never get an opportunity like this again, so he buys it. It burns a hole in his sock drawer for weeks, but Albus knows he has to make this perfect. He has to wait for the right moment.

Then, Albus comes home one day at 5:06 on a Friday, which should have been the first sign that something was off. Scorpius is not there to give him his chaste kiss and ask pointlessly what he wants for dinner. In fact, Albus can’t find Scorpius anywhere. After searching everywhere else in the flat, Albus finally peers into Scorpius’s study.

Scorpius is slumped on his favorite leather armchair. An empty glass tumbler hangs languidly in one of his hands, and a piece of parchment with a neat green scrawl in the other. His knees are tucked under him and he looks scared. Albus thinks he knows who the letter is from.

“My dad has threatened to disown me,” Scorpius throws at him immediately.

Albus’s breath catches in his chest, and he wonders for a moment if Draco knows about the ring somehow. He tries not to fixate on the box, which is twiddling its thumbs in his dresser. Their dresser. It’s a miracle Scorpius hasn’t found it, honestly. “Why now?” Albus asks. “I just mean… we haven’t done anything crazy in the past two years. Surely there were ample opportunities for him to disown you?” 

“Tucana Zabini graduated Hogwarts in May.”

“Congrats,” says Albus, not sure how Blaise Zabini’s youngest daughter is relevant to the conversation.

“My father would like me to marry her,” Scorpius says, glumly running his thumb around and around the top of his glass.

“You’re gay,” Albus says, always one to state the obvious, just like his dad.

“He knows that,” Scorpius says, smiling bitterly. “He doesn’t care.”

“Oh,” is all Albus has to add. “But… he’s wanted you to do things like this before. You’ve never cared about it. What’s wrong?”

Scorpius slowly sets his tumbler down on the side table he helped Albus pick out. Albus is starting to get nervous; his stomach is beginning to twist in weird ways.

“My mother is dead, Albus. I… don’t have anyone else.”

“You have me.”

Scorpius looks up, finally. His bottom lip is swollen from biting it and Albus just wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him into that stupid leather chair until he tells him this is all a dream or a carefully orchestrated prank. Instead, a tear rolls down Scorpius’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Al. I have to do this,” he whispers. He stares into the fireplace as if he can’t believe this either.

Albus’s stomach does a twist akin to a rogue Bludger, knocking the wind out of him and breaking his heart in two. “What?” he rasps. “You’re doing it?”

“It’s what I have to do, isn’t it? I can’t just let him disown me. He has no one… we’re the last family we have unless you count Teddy, which…”

Albus isn’t quite sure what to say to that, except the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, “I wish your mom were still alive.”

Scorpius’s eyes steel over, and Albus knows he’s done for. “You wish she were still alive? You?”

Minerva, now settled into retired life, breaks down when she reads the engagement announcement in the Daily Prophet. She remembers reading a similar one twenty years ago: an uncomfortable-looking blonde heir standing next to whatever prominent daughter of a sacred twenty-eight family his father has chosen for him. She considers writing to Draco Malfoy and asking him just what he thinks he’s doing but she thinks better of it. It will only make the situation worse if anything. Instead, she dabs at her eyes with a napkin and sighs. If even Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World, couldn’t shake a Malfoy marriage, why does she even bother hoping his son will?

  
  


_Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy fall out of love the same way their fathers do._

Which is to say, they don’t. 

Albus isn’t really sure what to do after that.

He finds himself and all his belongings at James’s house some five hours later. He contemplated leaving the ring in his now-empty sock drawer, just so Scorpius would find it. Except he realizes that he isn’t even sure if he wants Scorpius to know about it anymore. Clearly, it wouldn’t be enough for him. Instead, he toys with it as he’s sprawled on James’ guest bed, thinking about Scorpius and Tucana Zabini and how much Azkaban time is worth murdering one or both of them.

Tucana Malfoy doesn’t sit right on his tongue. He’s always thought Scorpius Potter had a nice ring to it, but picturing the look on Draco’s face when he finds out Scorpius took a Potter’s last name makes him think that Albus Malfoy doesn’t sound so bad. Or perhaps they should hyphenate it? Potter-Malfoy or Malfoy-Potter? Then he remembers that no one is taking anyone’s name anytime soon, and almost snaps the ring in half.

James gives him pitying glances for about a week before he resumes acting like everything is fine. He leaves him alone for the most part, letting Albus wallow and stew in his bitterness. When Albus is finally ready to face society (or even the kitchen) again, James just grins and asks if he still has a broom.

Scorpius wakes up on the floor of his study with a raging headache and a lot of questions. He gets up and takes some pain relief potion before setting out to look for Albus. He realizes Albus is missing, and he’s about to Floo call James to ask him what his brother thinks is so funny when Draco steps out of the fireplace and sniffs distastefully. 

“You look like a disaster. I take it you’ve received my letter,” Draco remarks. Scorpius racks his brain. Letter?

Then he remembers. Green scrawl, leather couches, and broken glass. Memories of his mom, resurfacing endlessly. Him shouting at Albus to leave and never come back. “So that’s where Albus is,” Scorpius thinks out loud, reaching for the pot of Floo powder. 

His dad grabs his wrist. “And that’s where he’s going to stay,” Draco says, “I’ve come to see what kind of state you’re in. You’re getting formally engaged to Tucana Zabini tonight at seven. How much did you have to drink last night?”

“Not sure,” Scorpius mumbles.

His dad frowns but says nothing. He’s not one to talk and they both know it. “Well, get yourself a hangover potion, please. And a shower. I want you to look presentable. The Daily Prophet will be there.

“So… this is really happening, isn’t it?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Because I’m gay and in love with Albus? Because I’m not even sure anyone has asked Tucana if she wants this? Because you always said we were going to move past old pureblood traditions—”

“You are an only child, Scorpius. You know your mother was too weak for another, so this must fall on you. You know she always wanted to be a grandmother… I’m sorry. I understand more than you know,” Draco says, thinking about dreamy nights, dark hair, green eyes, and lightning bolt scars. “Much more. Have your little affair on the side if you must.”

“No,” Scorpius says immediately. “Neither one of them deserves that.”

Inwardly, Draco winces. His son is much nobler than he is. Sometimes he wonders if Scorpius should have been in Gryffindor instead. Instead of asking him about it, Draco shrugs. “Your choice. See you at seven.” Scorpius nods dejectedly and turns towards the bathroom, which is now suspiciously empty. He didn’t even realize how much space Albus’s toiletries fill up, and now he may never see them again. He doesn’t give his dad a second look, only falls into the shower and tries to scrub away all the love he feels for a man he knows he cannot have.

Draco watches his son leave the room, and before he can throw the Floo powder into the fireplace, he looks around his son’s apartment. It looks half-furnished, and Draco’s brain unhelpfully supplies him with memories of his own empty flat the day after he kicked a different Potter out, and his heart clenches in a way it hasn’t in a long time. He sighs, reminds himself that he’s doing the right thing for Astoria and Narcissa and all the brave women who have fought to keep the Malfoy bloodline alive for so long, probably against their better judgment. He ponders, not for the first time, simply letting it die out, then shakes himself. He pulls his cloak closer around himself, throws the powder in the fireplace, and says, “Malfoy Manor.”

Albus isn’t really sure what to do with himself in the weeks after that. He keeps arriving at Healer training, going through the motions, and putting in only enough effort to get himself a degree. He only has a year left, after all. It would be too much work to quit now. His boss becomes increasingly concerned, constantly casting him worried glances. Albus doesn’t notice most of them, though. He doesn’t notice most things, to be honest.

After some time, he can sense James getting sick of him and moves in with Lily instead. She, on the other hand, wants him to live with her forever. She takes him to her favorite clubs, insists he goes on girls’ nights with her, and reminds him daily that he doesn’t need men to survive. Albus smiles half-heartedly, which is about the amount of his heart that he has left, and puts as much of himself as he can into making her think her self-care is working. It seems to be enough for her that he tries, and Albus thinks that that’s the nicest thing anyone has done for him since the night before Scorpius kicked him out.

Scorpius hates wedding planning. He hates weddings. He hates women. He hates Tucana Zabini. He hates whichever old west-wing ballroom they’re meeting at this time. Most importantly, he hates his dad.

“Oh, what about the silver table runners? They’re lovely,” Pansy Parkinson asks, tapping the wedding catalog with a long manicured nail. Draco hums ambiguously, not wanting his study to be set on fire again.

Tracey, Tucana’s mom, laughs coldly. “Oh, no. We’re doing lavender. It’s in my family crest, after all.”

Pansy snorts, rather unladylike. “You would have a family crest, wouldn’t you, Davis?”

“It’s Zabini, dear. Has been for almost twenty-three years. And yes, Parkinson, we do. I was sure your family was… prestigious enough to have one too, but perhaps that could explain why you’re still single,” Tracey says lightly. Blaise looks like he’s trying not to laugh as Pansy rapidly turns the same deep red as her lipstick.

Next to him, Tucana stops admiring her cuticles. “Mom, Dad, Mr. Malfoy, Pansy, We’ll be going,” she says, grabbing Scorpius’s arm in a death grip.

Blaise winks. “Alrighty, kids. Be safe. If you’re lucky, we’ll have picked the table runners for this wedding before you guys have to start planning our funerals.”

Draco looks like he wants to say something to diffuse the tension, but that comment has Pansy pointing her wand at his curtains and screaming something about house pride and navy suits and lesbianism while Tracey icily tries to explain familial honor, so he lets it go.

Tucana pulls Scorpius into a random room, and Scorpius feels himself let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s his mother’s old study.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, so please just don’t hate me,” Tucana says.

“Okay,” says Scorpius. He’s pretty sure nothing she tells him will make him hate her more than he already does.

“I don’t like men,” she says lightly, admiring her nails again. “I rather prefer women.”

Scorpius exhales. “Oh, thank god,” he says. Tucana looks up, confused. “I’m gay too,” Scorpius says in explanation. 

Tucana looks up. “Then why do you want to get married?”

“I don’t, not really. My dad just… wants me to. For his weird reasons.”

Tucana’s eyes narrow. “But my dad told me… oh, that bastard. Well, nothing else for it then,” she says, calculating. Scorpius is sure she should have been in Ravenclaw until she gets the classic Slytherin glint in her eyes and grabs him by the arm again. “Come on, not fiancé. Let’s go unmarry this wedding.”

Scorpius thinks she wouldn’t have been such a bad fake fiancé after all, but the thought of seeing Albus again makes him so happy it hurts, so he follows eagerly.

Harry isn’t sure what’s gotten into his son, but it feels like Albus is fourteen again. Suddenly, he won’t speak to Harry about anything, and he’s off doing potentially dangerous things without telling anyone where he is. Lily and James have sort of pieced together a story for him, and from what Harry can gather, yet another Malfoy patriarch has broken yet another Potter’s heart. Harry is close to going over to Malfoy Manor himself, but then he remembers that the apparition wards won’t allow him in. He settles for dropping off Albus’s newest Weasley sweater that he forgot at this year’s Christmas party with a note that tells Albus to firecall when he’s ready.

Harry is pretty sure it isn’t the divorce finally catching up with Albus. That was about two years ago, but Albus was so preoccupied with Scorpius that Ginny sometimes jokes that he never even realized they had gotten divorced at all. Albus seemed fine at the time, but every piece of advice Hermione has ever given him assures him that there is trauma somewhere in that boy. Perhaps he is just particularly talented at hiding it. Either way, Harry is worried.

Albus, on the other hand, stalks the papers religiously for months, hoping to see the pictures of Scorpius’s wedding. Purely so that he can scribble all over Tucana Zabini’s stupid face, not at all so that he can imagine himself marrying Scorpius instead.

That’s when he sees the announcement. Lily is noisily moving around in the kitchen making tea, but all the sounds she’s making fade into a vague ringing noise in Albus’s ear that sounds a little like TV static and a little like being underwater.

_Scorpius Malfoy, 21, has called off his engagement to Tucana Zabini, 18. The couple was last spotted at a bakery two months ago, but have not been seen since. The recent split could explain their and their parents’ recent hiatuses from popular wizarding locations. The reasons for the split are unclear, although the Prophet authors suspect it is related to Malfoy’s sexual orientation. For more information on this, see our sixth edition of the MMXXIV series. Both parties have declined to comment at the time of writing._

“Oh, I’ll decline him a comment alright,” Albus says, rereading the notice. Surely this is a dream, or James paid someone to run this. Scorpius hasn’t really—

“What?” Lily asks.

Albus shows her the notice. She reads it in about five seconds flat and squeals. “What are you waiting for?” she asks. “Go get your man!”

“What happened to not needing one, Miss Independent?” Albus asks, lacing up his Vans.

Lily whacks him over the head with the rolled-up Prophet. “Shut up, you lovesick idiot. Just go.”

  
Albus swears he doesn’t mean to end up on the doorstep of Malfoy Manor facing the wrath of Draco Malfoy, but he does.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” Draco asks. Albus notices that the bags under his eyes are deeper than they were the last time he saw him but says nothing. Draco looks angry, but not ready to hurt someone. More like he’s been an angry person since he came out of his mom’s womb, and… oh, wait.

Albus swallows. “Is… Scorpius here?” he asks.

Draco frowns. “He is. Why are you?”

Albus runs his hands through his hair. He’s not related to a massive bunch of Gryffindors for nothing. “Because I’m in love with him and want to spend the rest of my life with him instead of letting him marry someone else,” he answers simply.

Draco, instead of turning Albus away like he expects him to, sighs wearily. “I figured just as much,” he says and opens the door wider. Albus steps inside carefully, wiping his feet on the gray welcome mat. The squeaking of his shoes echoes on the black and white checkered floors. He glances around at the green upholstered couches on the other end and the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Finally, his gaze pans back to Draco.

“I’m sorry, Albus,” Draco says, looking him right in the eye. Albus looks up from his shoes at him. “I… misinterpreted some promises and misread a lot of rooms. And it affected you, as well as my son.”

Albus is positive that Draco Malfoy isn’t standing here in the entrance hall of his familial estate apologizing to him, but he accepts the apology anyway. “Yeah. I mean, it’s all mostly okay now, right?” He hopes this is Draco giving them his blessing because there’s a box in his pocket that weighs about a thousand pounds and a reckless idea in his head that won’t leave.

Draco nods. He looks like he wants to smile, but he just can’t get his mouth to form the shape. Albus supposes he’s out of practice—according to Scorpius, he hasn’t been the same since Astoria died. Albus is about to run up the stairs to where he knows Scorpius will be when Draco calls to him again. “And tell your dad I’m sorry, too,” he says.

“What?” Albus can’t help himself this time. Apologize to his father? “What for?”

Draco’s eyes steel over, the classically Malfoy expression. “He’ll know,” is all he says, before turning on his heel and stalking back to the kitchens.

Albus thinks it’s strange, but ignores it. He has a more important Malfoy on his mind, anyway. He turns all the same passages he remembers from so long ago, summers spent together in empty fields and tangled sheets, until he sees the hunched figure in Astoria’s old study. “Scorp,” he breathes.

Scorpius turns and looks at him. Albus is sure his heart drops into his stomach, and he thinks maybe that’s where the rest of his heart has been all this time because suddenly he feels whole again. “Al,” Scorpius says, before running up and all but throwing himself into Albus’s arms. He buries his head into Albus’s neck and Albus is overwhelmed with the smell of his shampoo. He doesn’t even realize he’s missed it that bad until suddenly he’s crying, and Scorpius is crying, and they stay in Astoria’s study and cry for what feels like ten years. Albus finds himself on the floor when he’s finally able to see again.

“I missed you,” Scorpius says.

“Me too,” Albus says. Then he blurts, “Why did you pick them over me?” That question has had Albus losing sleep for months, almost becoming the mantra of his depression.

Scorpius smiles sadly and doesn’t answer for a moment. Albus looks at the curves of his lips, and then he can’t look at much else. But when Scorpius hesitantly opens his mouth to answer, Albus pays rapt attention. “I thought… that I could only have one of you. That I had to choose. I suppose some part of me has always thought that, but I just assumed that when I came out, that _was_ me choosing you. And that my dad was… okay with it. But then, here he was, asking me to choose him. So I did it because it felt like the right thing to do.

But we’ve been talking, me and my dad. Well, Pansy Parkinson set his curtains on fire twice, Tucana is grounded for about a year, and Blaise Zabini has been on an extended holiday in Italy for a month or so, but we eventually concluded that I could choose both. That I could always choose my family if… if instead of Tucana, you were…”

“Family,” Albus finishes, and then he’s reminded that he brought the box. He fishes it out of his pocket and Scorpius’s eyes almost fall out of his sockets. “Marry me,” Albus whispers. “Marry me instead.”

“Of course,” Scorpius answers immediately, and then they’re kissing and Albus’s world shifts an inch to the left and falls back into place again. It’s like the past four months haven’t even passed because Albus is back where he needs to be. He puts the ring onto its rightful place on Scorpius’s finger, Scorpius tells him it reminds him of his mom’s, and Albus tells him that’s why he picked it.

He tells Scorpius about how he picks him and he will always pick him and asks him not to go running off into any more spontaneous arranged marriages. Scorpius laughs and agrees and kisses him thoroughly, and Albus wonders why on earth he couldn’t just have asked Scorpius sooner if it meant they could have all this.

  
  


_Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy fall back in love._

Luckily, it doesn’t end the way their fathers’ love appeared to have ended. Scorpius and Albus move their stuff into a brand new flat the next week, and it looks furnished, not empty, finally. Lily is a little sad to see Albus go, but Scorpius assures her that there will be ample time for their girls’ nights. Albus hits him with a copy of the Quibbler, which makes Lily giggle and Scorpius grin mischievously.

The next weekend at lunch, James breathes an audible sigh of relief when Scorpius and Albus walk in hand in hand. Teddy laughs out loud, spinning his newborn daughter around. “See, Josie? I told you it would all be okay.” Jocelynn Lupin is attached to Scorpius immediately, which Albus takes as a good sign. Victoire pinches both of their cheeks and asks if they want help planning their wedding. Scorpius pales so quickly he could rival the Bloody Baron, and Albus laughs. 

Minerva McGonagall, for one, is grateful she doesn’t have to come out of retirement just to save a marriage. She stopped reading the prophet for months until Pomona Sprout fire called her one day, telling her she might like to see the latest engagement announcement that made the front page. 

For once, it is not one she has seen before. It is a happy looking blonde heir this time, next to his chosen one. No meddling parents are involved, which is just the way Minerva likes it. Considering the look Harry Potter is giving Draco Malfoy right now when he thinks everyone is focused on his son, Minerva wonders lightly if it will be the last of those engagement announcements.

She is now seated in the second row of the church, behind Ginny Weasley (or is it Lovegood now? She can’t remember), Harry Potter, looking ready to cry, Draco Malfoy, as stiflingly put-together as always, and an empty seat with Astoria’s favorite necklace draped over one armrest.

Albus and Scorpius look over the moon as they exchange vows, and Harry cries more than once. Ginny pats his back and hands him tissues which she assures are Wrackspurt-free. Harry smiles at that.

All in all, Minerva thinks that the wedding was a resounding success. After all, if everyone else is happy, she is happy. 

And if Harry and Draco, watching their sons at the altar, are forced to see the scraps and shards of what they left behind, all those years ago? Well, Minerva supposes, then they simply must confront it, once and for all.

Better late than never, anyway. 


End file.
